


BATSHITBATSHITBATSHIT

by postinghumorouslyposthumously



Series: Chillin' On a Building [6]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Wade Wilson, Bad Humor, Humor, Loki and Thor are a thing, Love, M/M, Multi, Peter gets ganked in this one but it's totally fine, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Thor, Protective Wade Wilson, The 'Vengers have to work with Loki, The Drama, a little sad, the 'Vengers have to work with Ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-06 17:26:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postinghumorouslyposthumously/pseuds/postinghumorouslyposthumously
Summary: Installment VI. *on hiatus until "My Own Goddamn Hero" is complete*The world is in danger! (again)Luckily, Thor’s come back to save the day…Well, actually, it’s one Mischievous god, the Merc with the Mouth, and the Ghost with the Most themself.Yeah...they don’t think it’s going to go well either.---Takes place directly after Installment V. You will be absolutely lost if you do not read previous installments, but, hey, do whatever you want!





	1. All We Need Is Divine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome Ladies, Gents, and Everyone Else! It took six days to make the universe, and six installments to make you question my bullshit. (but lets be real...it probably took a lot less than that) 
> 
> Welcome to Batshit.

Thor trudged into Avengers Tower at approximately Ass O’Clock. There were few people in the halls, but those who were stopped and stared at the so far long absent godly Avenger. He barely looked up at them and kept his trek on towards Bruce’s lab, feet dragging and head lowered like a scolded puppy. 

 

Bruce was awake--as...pretty much always--and, yeah, in his lab. There was always work to do, and it helped him take his mind off things. Green things. Big green things. Big dumb green things. 

Bruce was wearing purple pajama bottoms. No one ever asked, but it was his favorite color. Bruce thought idly about the fact that there was a point in everyone’s life when everybody stops caring what your favorite color is. In elementary school, that little fact is crucial. You couldn’t go a day without getting asked what your favorite color was--or declaring it loudly for no real reason. But then, seemingly one day, right out of the blue-- _ that was a color pun _ , Bruce chuckled mildly to himself--people stopped asking. 

The door of the lab opened, and Bruce frowned. Only the Avengers and Pepper had access to the lab without asking permission. He looked up to see none other than Thor walking in, resembling a kicked golden retriever. 

“Thor?” Bruce asked. 

Thor looked up, and brightened slightly when he saw the doctor. 

“Bruce!” He said, chipper, but not Thor’s usual chipperness. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, glancing around confusedly. 

“...What are you doing here?” 

Thor walked closer to Bruce, stopping on the other side of the table. 

“Needed a break from Asgard. Family drama...what have you guys been up to?” 

“Um…” Bruce started, running his tongue over his teeth. He looked back at Thor, who stared at him expectantly. “Got time?” 

“Significantly more than you, my mortal friend.” 

Bruce snorted. 

“Right, yeah, of course...so, you left a bit after Peter quit being an Avenger, right?” 

Thor nodded. 

“Yes, I was very sad to see him go. He has always been a great friend of mine. But I am glad he followed his heart and did not let people dictate his decisions.” 

Bruce nodded absently. 

“Right, yeah, sure, well…” 

Bruce talked for a long time. 

Thor said nothing. Listened intently, occasionally nodding or frowning, but never interrupting. Until Bruce got to the part about Ghost. 

Thor held up a hand. 

“Wait,  _ what  _ did you say?” 

Bruce stopped, and raised an eyebrow at Thor. 

“She possessed a dead girl, made people kill themselves, and we have no idea where she came from?” 

Thor looked down, growing pensive. He stroked his chin. 

“Is...something wrong?” Bruce asked. 

Thor looked back up at him. 

“What became of this “ _ Ghost _ ”, as you call her?” 

Bruce paused. 

“Well...Tony shot her, and she just kind of...disappeared. We’ve been looking for her because we know she isn’t dead, but we’ve found relatively nothing.” 

Thor looked serious now. 

“Who all was there when Ghost disappeared?” 

Bruce frowned. 

“Tony, Steve, Clint, Peter, and I, but I was in the car for most of it.” 

Thor’s jaw set. 

“We must assemble everyone immediately.” 

Bruce was very confused. 

 

Bruce got ahold of Clint and Natasha. 

Steve and Tony weren’t answering calls. 

Thor waved it off and said this was too important to wait. 

He started talking. 

“ _ Ghost  _ is a scout for the Athraki race.” 

Clint furrowed his brow. 

“The what?” 

Thor looked down at the table. 

“They are a race of beings from a planet far from here. Long ago my--” Thor paused momentarily, the slightest hesitation made Bruce glance at Nat shortly, “-- _ brother _ and I, along with Sif and the warriors three wiped a mighty portion of them out after they destroyed two planets and the beings that inhabited them.” 

Bruce gestured nervously with his hand. 

“So, like...majorly not good?” 

Thor shook his head. 

“A small number of them escaped, but a small number is all they need. Especially to wipe out planets with the likes of humans atop them.” 

Bruce knew better than to be insulted. He very firmly agreed with Thor. 

“The Athraki...what do they do?” Nat asked, frowning deeply. 

Thor paused, then answered her. 

“When the Athraki find a potential planet, they send a single scout. The scout’s job is to determine whether or not the planet has suitable “hosts”--beings they can possess and live in for the time being. Hosts must be compatible to the Athrak possessing it, but once an Athrak finds a compatible host, they are almost unstoppable. 

‘The Athraki possess an ability unlike most other beings. They are able to seep into one’s soul and wipe out any and all happiness they find. They feed on feelings of misery and despair, and drive one to end one’s own life. Once they cause you to end your life, they control your body like a puppet. In this way, they destroy planets. Feeding on bad feeling after bad feeling until there’s nothing left but dust. And they move on to the next potential planet.” 

Bruce blinked at Thor. 

“So...what makes a host compatible?” He was afraid to ask. 

Thor shrugged. 

“Nothing concrete. I suppose you could compare it to how humans are allergic to certain foods and things. If humans and Athraki are allergic to each other, it doesn’t work.” 

Bruce supposed that was as good an answer as he expected. 

“And...Ghost is an Athraki scout?” He asked

Thor nodded. 

“I am most certain of it,” Thor paused, “and...if I’m right...is quite possible hiding in plain sight, possessing one of you who was there when they disappeared, and regaining their strength. They would have to be compatible with whoever it is, which seems an unlikely chance but--” 

Natasha stopped him by suddenly grabbing Clint’s arm. Everyone looked at her. She stared at them all, eyes slightly wider than usual. 

“Peter.” 

 

_ Nat ran in, interrupting them. She didn’t bat an eye as they broke apart, Cap’s hand flying up to his mouth to wipe excess saliva away.  _

_ “Nat! What the hell?” Tony exclaimed, staring wide eyed at the red head, chest rising and falling quickly.  _

_ Natasha stared at them, angry Russian stare that meant something was wrong spread across her face.  _

_ Fuck.  _

Indeed. 

 

“The fuck do you mean ‘ _ we have to kill Peter _ ’?!” Tony exclaimed, almost shouting in Thor’s face. 

“It’s the only way to get Ghost out of him,” Bruce interrupted before Tony could started a fight with a literal God. 

Tony glanced shortly at him. 

“I still don’t understand,” Steve said. 

“None of us really do,” Clint responded. 

“We need to act quickly. Ghost has already had this much time to heal, she could take over Peter any moment,” Thor stated. 

“Are you 100% certain this will work?” Steve asked. Tony crossed his arms, still fuming. 

“I would not put Peter in danger if it were not absolutely necessary,” Thor responded. 

“You know, that’s not really an answer,” Bruce responded. 

Thor turned and stared at him indignantly. 

“Who’s going to do it?” Clint asked. 

“Clint,” Steve said, glancing over at him. 

Clint shrugged. 

“What? According to Thor, we have to do it.” 

“He will be alright,” Thor said. 

Tony snorted, and took a step away from all of them. He stood in front of one of the tables in Bruce’s lab, putting one of his hands atop it. 

“I’ll do it,” Natasha said. It was her job description after all. 

“What about Wade…” Bruce said. Either no one heard him, or they all ignored him. 

“Natasha, I would never ask that of you. I will-” Thor started, but was cut off by the red head. 

“I’m doing it, Thor. You need to be ready to trap Ghost in your contraption.” 

Tony turned around again to raise an eyebrow at Thor. 

“It’s a binding spell,” Thor explained. “I will bind Ghost to a container, and they will be unable to escape it.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“It worked before,” Thor said. 

“Yeah? And where’d you get this spell?” Tony asked incredulously, Steve around Clint to be next to him. 

Thor hesitated longer than he had the entire time he had been at Avengers Tower. 

“...Loki designed it.” 

The room was a chorus of groans. 

“This was long before he ever posed any threat to anyone! The spell is true, and it will hold.” 

Tony looked unconvinced. He opened his mouth to say something. Steve put a hand on his shoulder. Tony’s eyes flew to his. Steve nodded once at him. Tony’s eyes flashed, and he looked back at Thor. Tony relaxed into a false causality that every Avenger recognized at once. Tony had resigned himself to the plan. 

Thor, Natasha, Clint, Tony, and Steve left one right after the other in that order. Brushing out of the lab so fast, Bruce could practically hear the theme music. He was left alone once again in his purple pajama bottoms. He was ever the waiting wife, but that was alright with him. He was a scientist. Not a superhero. He looked towards the door where the Avengers had disappeared through in a whirlwind of purpose. 

Bruce wondered if anyone ever asked what Wade’s favorite color was. 

 

Natasha realized her mistake as soon as she had pulled the trigger. The scream Deadpool let out made cold seep through Natasha’s ribcage. 

Thor cast the spell, and Natasha blinked as there was a flash of light--like lightning--and then Thor’s little metal box snapped closed. Highly supernatural indeed. 

The gun was still raised. Peter’s body finally slumped forward on top of Wade, who caught him, wrapping his arms around the boy as though he were the most delicate glass. Natasha watched as Wade shifted until he was cradling Peter in his lap. The blood had smeared across his forehead, and more seeped from the hole between his eyes.

But it was okay. Thor said it would all be okay. 

Wade suddenly looked up. 

Natasha’s throat was dry, the only symptom of fear she allowed herself to have. 

“De-Wade, it’s going to be okay. Let me explain--” 

Wade did not let her explain. 

 

All the little broken pieces that made up Wade suddenly pushed away from each other so fast and violently that Wade experienced whiplash. The glue that held him together collapsed on top of him like every TV show and movie death that ever made you cry. Tears welled in his eyes. He cradled the face of the man in his arms. His eyes were still open. Big brown eyes, unable to see the stars in the sky. 

Wade looked up. 

He slowly moved Peter off his lap onto the ground. Gently lying him in the grass. Then, he lunged. 

 

Thor tossed the box to Natasha, who caught it with a snap of her wrist, then Thor stepped in front of Wade’s path. He knocked him out with a single blow, and the Merc with the Mouth collapsed like all all his bones had been snatched out of his skin.

Thor glanced back at Natasha. 

“That went well,” he said.

They heard groaning. Nat and Thor turned to see a woman, webbed and writhing on the ground. Her eyes blinked open, glowing pale yellow in the darkness. 

Natasha hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

 

Wade woke up handcuffed to a pole, still fully suited save for his mask, which laid on the floor next to him. His breathing began picking up, he looked up to see Hawkeye standing a good, safe distance away, arms folded in front of him. 

Wade yanked on the handcuffs, struggling momentarily to stand up, hands still wrapped around the pole. 

“Calm down,” Clint said. 

Wade glared at him, opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted. 

“Peter’s not dead.” 


	2. ‘Turns out your friend here is only MOSTLY dead. See, mostly dead is still slightly alive.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love a good Princess Bride quote! 
> 
> Last chapter I said next chapter was coming soon, then posted this chapter immediately after.

Watching Peter die was the worst moment of his life. Hands down. No competition. 

Seeing Peter lying pale on a bed in a shitty little room in Avengers Tower, not breathing, snatched that previous memory from his brain, tore it up, spit, and stomped on it. 

Wade stopped in the doorway, unable to go any further. The bullet wound was gone from his head, but that was the only thing that had changed. 

Wade pulled his mask back on after Clint uncuffed him. The archer only clicking open the cuffs when he felt confident in the fact that Wade wasn’t going to kill him as soon as he was free. Now, Wade felt like pulling the mask off again. Funny, it wasn’t often he felt that way. 

He took another step into the room and pulled the mask off his head. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, but he hadn’t been aware he was crying until then. He sniffed, and wiped across his face with his arm, finally taking more steps and walking to Peter’s bedside. 

He stared at Peter’s chest, unable to look up into his face yet. His chest didn’t move. Wade was wont to think that if he put his hand over it, he wouldn’t be able to feel his heart beat. Finally, Wade looked up. 

People always compared dead people to sleeping people. Like they were moments away from popping open their eyes like bottles of champagne and smiling like it was their wedding d--like it was their birthday.

But fuck them. They lied. Peter didn’t look like he was sleeping. He just looked dead. 

**Well, well, well, how the turntables.**

Wade stood uselessly at his bedside, feeling all the world like a little kid again, terrified of making a sound lest someone remembered he existed and he got fucked up for it. He was scared to take Peter’s hand. So he didn’t 

 

From a young age we learn that dying is flat. It is the end of things, the anvil falling, the sharp cut off and screech of the soundtrack when something unexpected happened. 

Death is not supposed to be malleable. One is not supposed to be able to stretch it and bend it and roll it out and wrap it around themselves as if it were a cloak. Dying is Uncle Ben. Dying is Peter’s parents. Dying was the thing Peter feared the most in the whole world, for himself and his loved ones. 

Then he met Wade. 

And he got used to these pseudo-deaths. Well-- _ kind of _ used to. Mostly. But, obviously, it was a bajillion times better than the alternative. He knew that whenever Wade collapsed; when he was shot, stabbed, drowned, shoved, or what-have-you, he would come back. He’d open his eyes and smile. 

_ Big blue eyes, remember?  _ And they would go on. A composer snorting awake after having been thought dead, slumped over at his desk. Leaned down to pick up his pen and continue injecting notes into the sheet music, continuing the symphony. 

But Peter never really understood before. 

Until he died a Play-Doh death. 

 

Coming back from the dead was one of the most stressful moments of his...well,  _ life _ . 

He sputtered as though he had been drowning. He looked down at his chest to make sure it was, in fact, in tact seeing as he was  _ certain  _ there was a whole  _ fucking  _ bus plowing into it. Noise rushed his ears like Black Friday shoppers barging through the doors at Walmart. Every breath stung his throat as though freezing ice fishermen had lit a bonfire among the snow. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he started crying before he even realized he was alive again. 

“Peter _ \--Peter! _ It’s okay! You’re safe! It’s o-You’re alive! It’s okay!” 

Peter felt his arms being pried away from his chest, held down to stop his frantic scrambling. He heard what the voice was saying, but it most certainly was  _ not  _ okay! Despite the stinging, his breaths grew faster and faster, and he couldn’t control them. A car sliding on an oil slick, spinning out of control, head towards an inevitable crash. 

“Peter! Come on, it’s me! It’s okay!” 

Peter opened his eyes. Light was...the actual devil, but after a moment, things blurrily came into focus. A man kneeled next to him, staring at him intensely, still holding his arms. 

Peter choked. 

“W- _ ade _ ,” he pulled his arms away from Wade and threw them around him instead, falling into him and sobbing into his suit. He felt Wade’s hand on his back, stroking up and down soothingly. Heard his voice in his ear, trying to console him. Peter clung closer, and Wade’s arm wound tightly around his torso. Peter felt as though his whole heart had been ripped out with metal sporks. His eyes burned slightly, but the crying helped. 

Peter stayed buried against Wade’s chest until the tears stopped coming. Then, he slowly leaned back, noticing for the first time how stiff his joints were. Wincing at the pop both his elbows made when he moved his arms and held on to Wade’s biceps. 

Wade cradled the back of his head with one hand, his other arm still wrapped vice tight around his waist. Wade looked at him with watery eyes, but still so... _ adoring _ , that it made Peter want to actually die…

_ Again _ . 

Peter sniffed. Wade’s thumb stroked his scalp. 

“What happened?” He asked miserably. 

Wade’s expression suddenly grew so dark, it took Peter by surprise. Wade must have seen something in his face for the way he softened and leaned forward, kissing Peter’s cheek gently. 

“I got a taste of my own medicine,” Wade said quietly against Peter’s cheek. Peter wrapped his arms around Wade’s shoulders again and slumped against him again. Wade pulled him closer. 

“You died,” Wade said. Quite tonelessly. 

“Not generally something one says in past tense to the subject of the sentence,” Peter said. 

Wade barked a surprised laugh, then giggled. He leaned back to look at Peter again.    
“Not generally, no.” 

Wade kept staring at him, apparently not willing to elaborate. Peter wondered if he really wanted him to. 

But he needed him to. 

“Who shot me, Wade?” 

Wade went so tense so fast, like before when his expression changed. Wade opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He was cut off before he had the chance to try again. 

“Me.” 

They both whipped their heads over towards the voice. It was only then that Peter became aware of his surroundings. In a small white room with a bed, a table near the wall, and a door slightly ajar. In front of the door was Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow herself. Staring at Peter with her usual steely expression. 

Peter sniffed again, slightly self-conscious of the evidence of his crying that was probably very red and blotchy all over his face. 

“It’s a long story, but we’ll explain everything. Ghost is back, and she was possessing your body. The only way to get her out was to kill you. We have her contained, and now we need to figure out what to do next.” 

Peter stared at her. He blinked. Swallowed. Then looked away, towards the window. Light was filtering in through the blinds. Still a bit painful to look at. He looked over at Wade, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I have to go to class.” 

Wade stared at him. His delayed reaction came several seconds later. 

“...What?” 

Peter’s breath picked up slightly, causing his throat, lungs, and chest to hurt worse; like how they had when he first woke up. 

“I have to go to class. My prof will kill me if I’m late. I have--oh, God,  _ Wade _ , I have a fucking  _ assignment  _ due today! Then I have work, and if I’m late twice in a week I’ll probably get fired, and it stresses me out so much when my boss yells at me, and-” 

“ _ Peter _ ,” Wade said, placing his hands on either side of Peter’s face. 

Peter closed his eyes, his mouth shutting so fast his teeth clicked together. 

 

Wade glanced in Natasha’s direction. She looked at them a moment longer, then blinked and seemed to realize she should probably leave. 

“Come to Bruce’s lab after your done,” she said, and fled, closing the door behind her. 

Wade looked back at Peter, whose eyes were still closed and his face screwed up. He held on to one of Wade’s wrists, other hand still on his shoulder. 

“Peter, look at me, baby.” 

Peter opened his eyes. 

Wade licked his lips. He didn’t know what to do. Peter would know what to do. Peter was good with the words and the comforting and the... _ fuck _ . 

“I…” Wade started, then stopped. He couldn’t look away from Peter’s eyes. So  _ fucking  _ happy to see them open again, even if they were terrified. 

_ Like glistening pools of mud in the hot sun.  _

Wade inhaled deeply through his nose, he stroked along Peter’s cheekbones. 

“It’s gonna be okay--breathe,” he tacked on, because that’s what Peter would say. 

Peter inhaled sharply. 

Wade pushed one hand back through Peter’s hair. Peter closed his eyes again. 

“Don’t worry about class, or work, or anything else. Nothing. None of it. Don’t think.” 

Peter chortled, and Wade was comforted by the familiar sound. His shoulders relaxed infintislemaley. 

**Ha! We know big words like that bitches.**

_ You spelled it wrong _ . 

**Nah.**

Wade wrapped his arm around Peter, encompassing his shoulders. Peter buried his face in the crook of Wade’s neck. Wade didn’t know how comfortable it was, seeing as he was still wearing his suit--as was Peter, actually--but Peter relaxed almost immediately. 

 

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this today.” 

Peter admitted shamefully. He was THE AMAZING SPIDERMAN! FIGHTING CRIME AND SAVING LIVES! THERE HE IS, RESCUING YOU FROM YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE! DEFEATING VILLAINS AND SWINGING FROM BUILDINGS! IF YOU CAN’T DO IT, SPIDEY CAN! 

That was his whole shtick. He was a Superhero. Golden glory, alien combating, mutant-powers, arch-nemesis having, H-E-R-O. 

Heroes didn’t get tired. They didn’t stop and go home because they scraped their knees. They didn’t give up, even when all the odds were pushed against them, even when they hurt, and had lost, and everything had gone wrong and they were one Big Bad Wolf’s blow away from death. They were Good People gone to war. 

Peter didn’t think he was a god. Capital “G” or otherwise. He didn’t think he was better than anyone else. He didn’t believe that he had some higher purpose, or that he was meant for greatness. 

He only knew that he wore a spandex suit, and possessed a predisposition of responsibility for people who didn’t have the powers he did. People who he could help. Show kindness to. Save. 

This was all true. When he was anywhere else. With anyone else. 

Peter had felt tired so many times. All the time, really. He balanced college, and a job, and Spiderman, and his dysfunctional relationship. He wanted to go home and pull the blanket over his head twenty seven thousand times a day, and that was while he was still in line waiting for Starbucks. 

But Peter had never thought to himself: 

_ I don’t want to be Spiderman anymore _ . 

He knew he didn’t mean it. Not really. The “ _ anymore _ ” really meant “ _ right now _ ”. He knew that. Well--rather, he accepted that--that eventually, probably tomorrow, he’d wake up and shrug off his previous thoughts as one does and go about his regularly scheduled program. 

But he didn’t have tomorrow. He didn’t have the time for a system reboot,  _ turn it off and turn it back on again.  _ He had this shitty room with Wade and a limited number of minutes before he had to get up and figure out what the fuck was going on and what he had to do about it because no one else could do anything about it. 

Wade rubbed his back. 

“Baby boy, you know I’m gonna tell you you don’t have to. That I want so badly to leave right now, get on a plane to France and never look back  _ a la French Exit _ . I’m the empress of irresponsibility and abandoning anything I don’t feel like doing, and you know I’d almost always tell you to do the same, and if you want me to tell you that--that it’s okay, and it’s not on you, because it’s really not, Peter, and that we can leave right now and I’ll take you anywhere in the world you wanna go, I will.” 

Wade’s eyes moved back and forth between Peter’s. 

“But I know you, and I think--I’m kinda terrified and pissed off actually--that you want me to tell you you know what’s right, and that it’s going to be okay, and that you can do it, and you can get up and figure all this out, and that you need to, because you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t, and you’ll always regret it.” 

Peter looked away. 

Wade kinda winced, and grazed his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. 

“Yeah, see, I was afraid of that.” 

Peter held on to Wade’s shoulder, and gently pushed him out of the way. Wade stood up, and helped Peter to stand as well. It took Peter a second, but once he was steady, he felt like he was fine. Mostly. Kind of. Not at all. It was enough. 

He turned, and found his mask on a table by the bed. He turned back to Wade, who looked like a sopping wet sad labrador retriever. Peter stepped closer, and lifted his hands to Wade’s face. Wade’s slipped around Peter’s waist again. 

“I’m scared,” Peter said, “I’m scared, and tired, and confused, and I’m going to do what I need to because like you didn’t want to say, I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t. I love you, and I’m asking you to please stay with me, even though you don’t think you’re a hero, and you hate the Avengers, and we don’t know what kind of shitshow this is going to be, or if it’s going to be anything like last time.” 

Wade waited until Peter was finished, then leaned forward and kissed him softly. He pulled back after a few seconds with a slightly gross smacking sound and a string of saliva momentarily connecting their mouths. Peter grimaced, then laughed slightly. 

“Of course I’m staying with you, Peter.” 

Peter nodded. He lowered his hands from Wade’s face, and pulled on his mask. 

Wade turned, and did the same. 

Peter stopped suddenly, Wade turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” Wade asked concernedly. 

Peter turned to him with comical slowness. 

“What happened to the woman from the park?” 

Wade rolled his eyes, a full body motion. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I forgot about her.” 

 

Natasha and Thor had taken all three of them back to Avengers Tower. After some hesitation and confusion, they put the bound, snarling woman into a cell and put that whole situation on the back burner. Now, they sat with Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Clint in Tony’s lab, where they stared at the small metal box in the almost-everything-proof case (courtesy of Asgard) with the intensity of someone playing chess. 

“Are Peter and Wade coming?” Steve asked without looking away from the box. 

“Yeah, in a minute,” Natasha responded, also without looking away. 

Thor crossed his arms and tapped his finger against his bicep in thought. 

Bruce cleared his throat. 

Clint remained silent, sitting next to Natasha, hand on a knife in his belt. He remembered his concussion. 

“Peter Parker and Wade Wilson are requesting entrance into the lab, sir,” JARVIS suddenly spoke. 

“Let them in,” Tony said, suddenly much more alert, standing up straighter from where he was leaned against the table. 

The door opened. Peter and Wade entered, full suits on. The door shut behind them. 

Wade was abnormally quiet as they entered. They stopped near the table, Peter standing slightly in front. He stared at the box inside the case. 

“You put Ghost in there?” Peter asked, turning to Natasha and raising an eyebrow. 

Natasha nodded her head towards Thor. Peter turned his gaze to the god. 

Thor nodded once. 

“Peter, my good friend, I am so glad to see that you are well. Sorry about the...murder.” 

Peter shrugged. 

“Just tell me what the fuck’s going on and we’ll call it even.” 

“No one’s told you yet?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow, though they wouldn’t be able to see. 

“Give a guy a break, I’ve only been alive twenty minutes.” 

Thor nodded apologetically. 

“Of course, sorry--” 

“Ghost is a scout for a dementor-like race of aliens who are going to destroy Earth,” Tony said. 

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“They’re not going to destroy Earth. I will not allow that to happen,” Thor said.

Bruce wasn’t paying attention, instead, he found his eyes drawn to Wade, who’s gaze was moving to and from whoever was talking, like watching a tennis match with several players. Now, though, feeling himself being watched, he turned his head and looked back at Bruce. Bruce tore his eyes away quickly, embarrassed, clearing his throat as a reflex. He spoke up. 

“Peter, what everyone’s failing to say is...anything useful. But what’s happening is that Ghost is a member of the Athraki race. Thor has come in contact with this race of aliens before, and wiped out most of them. The ones left are those who managed to escape. They feed on bad emotions, drive people to suicide, and inhabit compatible hosts. Ghost is a scout for the Athraki, who have apparently targeted Earth as it’s next victim.” 

No one said anything for a few moments after Bruce finished. 

“Thank you, Bruce,” Thor said finally. He then stood up from his chair, resting his fist on the table next to Mjolnir. “I have dealt with the Athraki before. I am certain we can come up with a plan to stop them before Earth comes to any peril.” 

“So I was compatible with Ghost? Is that why I felt so attuned to her?” Peter asked, mostly ignoring what Thor said and instead asking his question. 

Thor nodded. 

“Most likely.” 

“And she possessed my body? For several weeks? Without me knowing?” 

“Yes,” Thor responded again. 

Peter looked at the box again. Took a deep breath, as if breathing in will. 

“What do we do?” 

Thor raised a finger. 

“I have a plan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two! What's the plan? 
> 
> What? I totally did NOT end chapter...whatever of installment IV the exact same way as this one! Y'all crazy...  
> (But I totally did) 
> 
> Thanks for the read! Kudos and comment below, lemme know if you loved it, hated it, or otherwise had some sort of thoughts about it.


	3. Gentle Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few gentle conversations that end in tears, rage, and bullets to the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits made to previous chapter (chapter 2) on date of this chapter update (1/27/19). 
> 
> Um...yeah. Sorry it took so long. Welcome. I do actually enjoy this chapter. It is a bit short, but we'll live. Thanks so much for reading!

“Are we sure this is a good idea? What happens if Ghost refuses?” Steve asked. 

“Then...we will think of a new plan,” Thor said optimistically, ending with a smile. 

“How the  _ hell  _ are you not dead yet?” Natasha asked, look of slightly annoyed disbelief on her face. 

“Never underestimate the good luck of an unbuffered fool,” Bruce said, so quietly only Natasha, Tony, Peter, and Wade caught it. 

Wade held up a finger, “are we forgetting the part where you want to let Ghost  _ back  _ into Peter?” Wade asked, a thin sheet of composure pulled over his body. His finger shook slightly. He hoped no one caught it. 

“I assure you, I would never let--” Thor stopped, turned his eyes from Wade to Peter, “Peter--I would not put your life in danger if I did not think I could get you out of it.” 

“All of this is beside the point that expect Ghost to--” Steve started, but Peter interrupted him. 

“This discussion is pointless. We can argue about it all we want if someone has a better idea in the next ten seconds,” he finished, the slightest bit of anxiety rising in his chest at having spoken so abruptly. But to his surprise, everyone shut up. 

No one said anything. 

Ten

Nine

Eight

Tony crossed his arms, glancing off to the side in annoyance. 

Seven

Six

Five

Bruce pushed his glasses up on top of his head and rubbed his eyes. 

Four

Three

Two

Thor tucked his hair behind his ear. 

One. 

Peter nodded. 

“Alright,” he said. 

“Peter--” Wade started, and Peter turned around to look at him. Wade’s hand was raised halfway towards him. He slowly closed his fist, fingers fidgeting. 

“I want this to be over with,” Peter said evenly; to Wade, put also to everyone else. He turned back around. 

“Talk to Ghost. Then we’ll talk afterwards and see what’s changed. Get some damn cards for once before making our play.” 

 

Bruce stepped back, glancing over at Wade, who brooded with his hands crossed over his chest. The Merc has taken his mask off, and so Bruce actually got to see Wade’s face as he only had on rare occasion. He looked so worried, watching as they strapped Peter down to the chair where they were going to let Ghost take control of his body so they could have a conversation. 

Bruce felt the urge to say something. To level with this man who he identified with more than he wanted to ever tell Tony or the other Avengers. 

“What’s your favorite color, Wade?” 

It was out of his mouth before he really made the decision to say it. Unlike him, who usually weighed his words as carefully as pyrotechnicians handle their processes.  

Wade looked over, impossible expression on his face, as he squinted, then raised an eyebrow. Bruce decided to own it, and stood, waiting to see if he would get an answer. 

It was innately perceptible when Wade softened, the slightest bit of tension steaming off his shoulders. 

“Purple,” Wade said softly, in a way that Bruce had never heard from him before. 

“Alright, we’re ready,” Thor spoke, commanding everyone’s attention. 

Wade turned, and went to Peter. 

Bruce stood, looking after him, understanding fully for the first time. 

He straightened, then stepped forward until he was next to the case. 

 

Wade kneeled down in front of Peter’s chair, resting his hands on his spandex clad knees. He reached up, and pulled Peter’s mask off. Peter looked scared. 

‘ _ I hate this _ ’, Wade felt like saying. He felt like glaring. Felt like purposefully exuding as much displeasure as possible. But what would be the point in that? Instead, he leaned up, and kissed Peter’s cheek, and Peter in turn kissed the corner of his mouth. 

“It’ll be fine,” Peter assured him. Them both, probably. 

Wade nodded, and stepped away, lingering closer than everyone else. He pulled his mask back on. 

 

Peter shifted as much as he was able in his seat. Strapped down. He looked around at everyone. Steve cleared his throat. 

“When it’s time...who do you want to do it?” He asked. 

It took Peter a second to figure out what he was talking about. Who did Peter want to kill him when they were done talking with Ghost? 

“Oh...I guess it doesn’t matter.” 

“Are you--” 

“Shut up, Steve,” Tony interrupted.

Steve snapped his gaze to Tony. Everyone else looked at Thor. Thor looked at Peter. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

Thor opened the box. 

 

There was nothing. No flash, no dark wispy smoke, no substance at all. Just the scrape of the lid being pulled off of the small metal box. Then, Peter’s chin dropped onto his chest. 

Wade watched, every muscle in his body tense. Wade could see Peter’s eyes moving back and forth behind his closed eyelids. 

It was many, anticipation thick seconds before Peter’s head rose again. He made a noise as he exhaled, eyes still closed. When they opened, Wade knew immediately it was no longer Peter. 

“Odinson,” was the first word out of his mouth. Peter’s voice, but changed. No longer the same tone Peter’s was. Not necessarily lower or higher, just...different. 

Thor stared hard at Ghost. 

“Have we met?” 

Ghost shrugged, but was stopped by the confines around Peter’s wrists. He looked down at the cuffs, then back up, seemingly unperturbed. 

“The god who killed  _ almost  _ all the Athraki?” Ghost looked around at all the humans in the room, “you people still tell stories about your meteor hitting the planet, right?” 

“ _ You _ people are what we want to talk about,” Tony said, stepping forward. Ghost looked towards him.

“Ah, right...the one who killed me,” Ghost said with the air of one who just tasted something fishy and foul. 

“You seem peachy now, so we’ll call it even.” 

Ghost said nothing in response, and looked away from him, eyes shifting over everyone in the room. Wade didn’t have hair anywhere on his body, but still he felt all his hairs stand up when Ghost’s gaze caught on him. And that was  _ Peter _ . Wade felt intense vertigo of staring at the man he loved while it wasn’t actually the man he loved. 

“You can’t die,” Ghost said. 

Wade remained silent. Uncharacteristic, to say the least. 

“I had fun in you.” 

Now Wade’s silence was  _ really  _ uncharacteristic. 

The seconds of silence grew to no more than two, before Peter--Ghost’s eyes snapped away from him, and back to Thor. 

“What do you want?” He asked. 

Thor stood up taller. 

“To strike a deal.” 

Ghost raised an eyebrow, such a Peter like expression that Wade felt his chest clench. Wondered if Peter was conscious. If he was just an unwilling passenger inside his own body. 

“You’re going to carry a bomb onto your ship, and blow it up,” Thor said evenly. 

Ghost licked his lips. 

“I hope your not insinuating that I would be in proximity of this blast, sir Odinson.” 

Thor looked as though he had swallowed something disgusting, but was trying not to show it as to remain polite. 

“If you do as is agreed...you will be allowed to live.” 

Ghost mouthed the word: “ _ allowed _ ”. 

“...You would actually leave me alive?” Ghost asked incredulously.

Thor shrugged, “We decided that between one of you or several hundred...we’d rather just have the one.” 

The corner of Peter’s mouth quirked up. 

“Aww, I feel special…” Ghost looked around, “what happens if I say no?” 

“We kill you,” Tony responded immediately. 

“Because that’s been  _ so  _ effective in the past,” Ghost said drily. 

“ _ I  _ kill you,” Thor said.

Ghost looked back at him. Considerate. Spoke with an air of casualty. 

“And what would you do about my thousand or so other friends?” 

“I suppose it would no longer be any concern of yours,” Thor responded. 

Ghost squinted at him. 

“Let me get this straight,” He said, extending his pointer fingers though his wrists were still cuffed to the arms of the chair. “You want me to bomb  _ every single  _ last living member of my race, in exchange for my one, individual life?”    
“Did he stutter?” Tony asked. 

For several tense seconds, Ghost was silent, intensely dark look spread across his face. Then, in the blink of an eye, he sat up straight, sniffed once, and smiled. 

“Sounds great. I’m down.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“But I do have a question... _ who  _ among  _ you  _ is going to build this Athraki-killing bomb?” Ghost asking, raising his eyebrows. 

Thor shifted from one foot to the other. 

Everyone looked over at him. Ghost smiled secretly, only Thor still looking to see. 

“You didn’t tell them?” He asked. 

Tony’s head moved quickly from Thor, to Ghost, back to Thor again. 

“Tell us what?” He demanded. 

Bruce almost sighed, but stopped himself just in time. This wouldn’t be good. 

Thor did sigh, but continued to say nothing. Luckily, he had Ghost to answer for him. 

“Tell you that baby brother is the only one in the universe who can build a bomb like that.” 

Wade would have laughed if he had been looking at Tony to see his expression. Instead, he was confused. 

“Loki?” Clint asked for him. 

Thor’s face said it all. 

“Thor?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Your plan is flawed,” Ghost admonished. 

“No, it isn’t,” Thor responded, finally raising a placating hand, “Loki will build the bomb.” 

“That’s a  _ terrible  _ idea!” Tony finally exclaimed, throwing his hands out. 

“Yeah, when exactly, were you going to tell us about this, Thor?” Natasha inquired, scary Russian stare engaged. 

“When I knew for sure that Ghost would agree to it,” Thor answered. 

“Oh my God…” Steve mumbled to himself, hanging his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you sure he’ll build the bomb?” Bruce asked at the same time Tony spoke again: “How do you know Loki won’t fuck us over?” 

Thor glanced back at Bruce, then forward again at Tony. 

“I swear to you, this will work,” he turned back to Ghost, a more steely expression coming across his face, “as long as all participants remain cooperative.” 

Clint snorted. 

Thor turned his head, and glanced at Natasha. 

Natasha rose from her seat, and drew her weapon. Wade closed his eyes. Didn’t help. All he saw was Peter the  _ last _ time Black Widow shot him in the face. 

Steve looked away, down at the ground, wiping his hand across his mouth. Bruce glanced at Wade, unmoved, then took off his glasses, and looked down to clean them with his shirt. Tony stared hard at the side of Peter’s face. 

Ghost stared past the barrel of the gun, directly into Natasha’s eyes, almost smug expression on his face.

“See you soon,” He said confidently.

_ Bang _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Hate it? Did it make you cry? 
> 
> Lemme know! Leave me a comment! A Kudos! An offering of dark chocolate covered espresso beans! (no pls someone give me some dark chocolate covered espresso beans) 
> 
> Thank you so, so, so much for reading! You guys are the greatest ever, and I love you all! More up soon!


	4. This Is a Terrible Fucking Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 4. Mostly unedited. Probably don't even need to declare that by now. A lot happens in this chapter, a lot of stuff, things are starting to pick up...hope you enjoy!

A song was playing on repeat in Chase’s head. 

_ Hasta Luego // Hasta Luego // Hasta Luego, Adiós.  _

The beat of the song occupied much of her mind as she sat on the hard floor of a small cell. She had no idea where she was. Perhaps a Spiderman secret lair underneath the city. She had thought there would be more webs. 

She didn’t know why she wasn’t dead. 

_ No.  _ She didn’t know why she couldn’t kill  _ fucking  _ Spiderman and that other fucking douchebag prick. 

She closed her eyes, and for the first time since she started her crusade just a...couple of days--maybe--earlier, she thought about Skyler. 

When she met Skyler, it was one of those our-eyes-met-across-the-crowded-room moments. She saw her, her saw she, and the rest was history. History filled with more little eye meeting moments, and gentle brushes of hands over skin, and this gorgeous girl who kept fucking smiling like Chase was something to smile at. Days that felt like all the times when Chase was a kid just before she stopped herself mid daydream, knowing it was too good to be true. Then it  _ did  _ become true, and Chase didn’t know what to do with herself but believe it was too true to be good. 

And, as it turns out, Chase was right. God fuck damn. 

So it was all coffee breath and eye fucking and holding hands while they walked down the street, until: 

Chase sat in the car, hands tapping anxiously against the steering wheel, her friendly pal detestation gnawing at the inner cords of her organs as she stared up at the building. She was mad at them--her friends--for leaving her in the car. Mad at herself for getting injured. Mad at everything, for being what it was. 

She couldn't believe she was sitting in the car while the love of her life and the rest of their friends were inside on the most high stakes job of their criminal careers. Chase was just fucking  _ waiting  _ for something to go wrong. 

However. 

She never could have anticipated it when tumbling out through the window came Spiderman himself, backflipping off the opposite building like the most hardcore and annoying parkour artist you’ve ever fucking seen. Chase almost jumped out of her fucking skin. 

She watched at the mutant landed smoothly on his feet on the ground, sending a thumbs up to the window he had just came through. Then, the Friendly Neighborhood Motherfucker sprinted towards the building again, disappearing inside. 

Chase watched, glued to the driver’s seat. It took a moment, like a bee moving through molasses, for her next driving thought to seep up in the bear trap of her mind. And it was: 

_ This is it. We’re fucked. I’m going to lose everything _ . 

And--She did. 

Chase opened her eyes. Back in the cell--both literal and figurative--that was the present. 

 

Wade has already iterated the Worst Moment of His Life. At the moment, that had taken prevalence. Now, Wade thought about possibly the best--and most confusing--moment of his life. Ironically, it took place an approximate handful of seconds before the worst. 

-

_ “Hey, baby?” Peter said, as though about to ask what he wanted for dinner, or if he remembered to lock the front door when they left the apartment.  _

_ Wade stared at him, confused, terrified, and hesitant expression still struck on his face. And--with the air of one confirming a fairly simple decision, Peter said (with confidence):  _

_ “I think I wanna marry you.” _

_ - _

If Wade were to count all the times that things had gone wrong, he would have to count every time he’d ever done something or made a decision ever. Well, actually, no. Because he’s usually right. Only he never does what’s right. Like when he thought to himself that it was a bad idea to fuck his unit Captain. Or when he thought it was a bad idea to go on an adventure with a freckled redhead. Or when he decided it was okay to start a  _ thing  _ with Peter Parker A.K.A Spiderman. 

And yes. We know there’s a dask. But the council had made the executive decision to ignore it. 

**Are we the council?**

No. The council is made up of Jason Momoa, a twenty-four year old wearing a T-shirt that says  _ I Hate Janet Fitch” _ , Sam from  _ The Night Eats the World _ , Sam from  _ The Lord of the Rings _ , Sam from  _ Burn Notice _ , Sam from  _ Sam I Am _ , Sam from  _ ICarly _ , Sam from  _ Supernatural _ , and everybody in Nyxrising Industries. 

_ I think that was just a rating of fictional Sams’ Big Dick Energy.  _

**Bold of you to assume Sam from** The Lord of the Rings  **doesn’t cream all those bitches.**

Yeah, and Sam from  _ ICarly definitelyyyyy  _ has more Big Dick Energy than Sam from  _ The Night Eats the World.  _

_ This is Sam from  _ Sam I Am  _ erasure and I am not here for it, nor there for it.  _

We’re getting off track. 

**There’s a track?**

There’s Peter.

And when he was shot in the head, all other thoughts came crashing to a halt. Like those moments in cartoons when a bus has to stop really fast to make the stop sign and not hit the old woman with the walker, and so the bus does that thing where it crumples up into itself like a caterpillar and the tires squeal like the death of a million pigs. 

But then, after he woke up, and the initial... _ situation  _ passed, and Wade had nothing else to do but think while he waited for Peter to wake up again after being shot... _ again. _ ..his mind wandered. To those six words Peter said before he couldn’t open his mouth anymore. 

_ “I think I wanna marry you.” _

Wade  _ fucking  _ hated himself for it. He hated himself for a lot of things a lot of the time, but  _ Jesus Christ _ , he  _ hated  _ himself for worrying about that while Peter was  _ literally  _ dead in front of him, slumped in a chair, eyes closed, gunshot wound slowly disappearing as though water seeping through a sponge.

 

_ “This is a terrible fucking plan.”  _

_ “Do you have a better one?” Thor inquired, raising an eyebrow.  _

_ “Yeah give me about five seconds to think of one that doesn’t involve your homicidal brother,” Tony responded, crossing his arms.  _

_ Peter’s head hung limp between his shoulders, shoulders slumped forward, cuffed wrists keeping him to the chair.  _

_ “Loki is the one who built the explosive, and remains the only one who can,” Thor said.  _

_ Natasha raised an eyebrow.  _

_ “And you’re gonna trust him to do this?”  _

_ Thor stood up straighter in answer.  _

_ “He fucking duped you into giving up your entire fucking planet one time,” Wade spat.  _

_ Thor looked away.  _

_ “I am not condoning bringing Loki here again  _ ever _ ,” Steve Admonished.  _

_ “Yeah, because we need your condoning,” Tony snorted. Steve opened his mouth to speak.  _

_ “Shut up, all of you.”  _

_ Everyone stopped and looked at Natasha.  _

_ A drop of blood dripped from Peter’s head onto the floor.  _

_ Natasha looked hard at Steve, then Tony, avoided Wade’s gaze, then finally looked at Thor.  _

_ “You know him better than all of us,” she said.  _

_ Thor nodded solemnly.  _

_ Natasha looked around the room again. Bruce uncrossed and crossed his arms, thought it would be better if he didn’t speak up. Tony sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  _

_ “This is a terrible fucking idea.”  _

_ And the swear coming from Steve Rogers of all people was almost enough to make Thor question the idea himself.  _

 

The halls of Asgard echoed with Thor’s footsteps. Quiet. No one around this hallway. Never anyone around this hallway. Only one way it lead, and he was the only one who wanted to be lead to it. Him.  _ Him _ . 

Fucker. 

He turned the corner, saw the door, didn’t hesitate. Walked right to it and walked in without knocking. Loki laid on his back on the canopied bed in the middle of the room, tossing a small object into the air and catching it again and again. Thor stopped inside the door, let it close behind him. 

Loki did not acknowledge him, but stopped throwing the object. Instead, he held it on top of his chest. Continued staring up at the ceiling of the canopy. 

“Didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon,” Loki said. 

Thor felt every muscle in his arms tense, all the way down to the veins in his hands, the ends of his fingers tingling with static pressure. Then, he relaxed. 

“I come for a reason.” 

Loki snorted. 

Thor bit his tongue, but ended up chortling for a fraction of a second. He stepped further into the room, and Loki sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed, long hair falling over his shoulder and acting as a curtain, hiding the ex-prince’s face. 

Thor stopped a respectable distance away from the bed and Loki. 

“I need your help.” 

Loki’s shoulders tensed, and then he looked up. Staring up at Thor from under hooded eyelids, smirk on his face. 

“You must be  _ truly _ -” 

“-Desperate,” Thor interrupted, finishing Loki’s sentence. He folding his hands in front of him. “Yes,” he said. 

Loki’s brows knit, and he leaned back, gripping the edge of mattress. 

“What do you want?” 

“Remember the Athraki?” 

Loki’s brow quirked, and Thor knew he’d be able to persuade the Trickster. 

“Remember the device you built?” 

Loki rolled his eyes, a full body motion that conveyed he was insulted Thor even asked a question like that. 

“Get on with it, Thor,” Loki said with the wave of his hand. 

Thor dropped his hands to his sides. 

“The Athraki are targeting Earth. We need you to build another device like the one you did when we faced the Athraki previously, so we can wipe them out once and for all.” 

Loki stared at him, unimpressed. 

“ _ ‘We _ ’ being, I assume, the  _ Avengers _ ?” 

Thor rolled his eyes. 

“And, anyway,” Loki said, pulling his legs up again to lay on his back on the bed again, “why should I care if the Athraki are targeting Earth? As far as I’m concerned...I’m not.” 

“Loki--” 

“ _ Thor, _ ” Loki mocked. 

Thor closed his mouth, and glanced off to the side, summoning as much muchness as he possibly could. Breathing air into his chest. 

“Do this for me,” Thor said, sincerity entwining it’s razor-barbed implications into his words. 

Loki turned his head and met Thor’s stare. 

The seconds ticked down. Thor knew they were ticking down by the emotions he saw flicking around behind Loki’s eyes. 

_ Five, four, three, two-- _

“ _ Fuck  _ you, Odinson.” 

Thor smirked a smug little grin.

Loki sat up, and pushed his hair back. 

“Anything, to get me out of here for a bit, right?” He asked, glancing over at Thor, the corner of his mouth quirked up. 

Thor’s grin dropped. 

 

Peter came alive again into a seizure. 

His wrists uncuffed to the chair, he jerked violently and he fell, body slapping on the hard floor of the lab. 

Wade lunged. As did Bruce, who was the only one left in the lab. Wade dropped to his knees, pulling Peter’s upped half into his lap. He seized several times, chest jerking up and down, eyes wide open, gasping for breath. 

“Do something!” Wade exclaimed to Bruce, who was scrambling. 

“Hold his head still and make sure he doesn’t bite through his tongue,” Bruce said, voice only slightly raised from normal. 

Wade hooked his right arm underneath Peter’s chin, splaying his hand against the opposite side of Peter’s head and holding it as still as possible, then shoved his two first fingers of his left hand into Peter’s mouth, which Peter bit down on immediately, hard enough to feel through the leather of Wade’s Deadpool glove. 

Bruce held down Peter’s arms, hard expression on his face, and...nothing else. Wade stared at him wide eyes, then back down at Peter’s face. 

He seized several more times. Then, his chest calmed. The pressure on Wade’s fingers released, and Peter started to cough. Wade pulled his hands away, cradling Peter’s face in his hands instead as Peter started to come out of it. Breath quickening, then slowing, growing deeper and smoother. 

Peter opened his eyes. His and Wade’s met upside down. 

“Peter? Can you hear me?” Bruce asked, reaching up to take Peter’s pulse. 

Peter coughed again, closed his eyes, and nodded. 

Bruce nodded back, though Peter couldn’t see him, and sat back on his haunches. 

Wade caressed Peter’s cheek. He opened his eyes again. 

“Hey,” Peter said, voice croaking. 

Wade said nothing, just leaned down and kissed the crown of Peter’s head through his Deadpool mask. 

 

Wade sat next to Peter, holding his hand, watching him sip water through a yellow bendy straw. 

Peter set his cup down on the table, and looked over at Wade. 

“Are you okay?” 

Wade screwed his face up, frowning, confused. 

“Why would I be not okay?” He asked. 

Peter shrugged. 

“You tell me.” 

Wade shook his head, lifting his other hand to join the one holding Peter’s. 

“I’m fine. Just wish this was over now.” 

Peter hummed. 

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me…” 

Bruce was on the other side of the lab with the box, doing science things. 

Wade stared down at Peter’s hand, stroking over his knuckles with his thumb, pressing his fingers lightly into Peter’s palm. 

“You know I still mean and want what I said.” 

Wade looked up. He thought maybe Peter could see how confused he was through his mask, because the man laughed, and reached forward with his free hand, pulling it off and tossing it on the table. Wade felt a pang of self-consciousness, as he always did whenever he took the mask off in public, or had been wearing it for a little while. Peter rested his hand against Wade’s cheek, and Wade couldn’t help but lean into it. 

Peter licked his lips, nervous. 

“I love you a lot, Wade, like...so much.” 

Wade turned his head and smiled into Peter’s palm. Peter nudged his head up to look him in the eyes again. 

Wade felt his heart pounding in his chest, the fucker. 

“I love you too,” he replied, quieter. 

Peter’s eyes shifted away. He bit into his bottom lip, then stopped. Closed his eyes, opened them again. He opened his mouth to talk, but Wade beat him to it. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Peter’s face froze, then broke out into a cheek splitting grin. He tipped forward, mouth meeting Wade’s into an immediately deep kiss. Wade lifted one hand, using it to cradle the back of Peter’s head. It lasted only a few seconds before Peter pulled back, eyes meeting Wade’s again. 

“Yea--yes. Yes, Wade,” Peter answered, unable to stop the smile on his face. 

Wade was hardly a match for his own toothy grin that rose up. 

“Yeah?” 

Peter laughed slightly, leaning forward to kiss him shortly again, then nodding. 

“Mhmm.” 

“ _ Yes _ ?” Wade asked again quietly, leaning forward to capture Peter’s lips again. 

Peter laughed again, using his hand to nudge Wade back softly. 

“If you’ll remember, I asked first,” He said, eyes bright and smile still stuck on his face. 

Wade said nothing, and pulled Peter back into him, kissing his mouth, then his cheek. 

“Didn’t know if you’d forgotten...or changed your mind.” 

Peter pushed him back again, smile finally disappearing slightly. He made Wade meet his eyes. 

Wade stared at him, anticipation clenching around his gut. Peter’s hand tilted Wade’s chin up. 

“Nope,” Peter responded. “ _ Never _ .” 

He grinned  _ again _ , and kissed Wade,  _ again _ , and Wade melted for what felt like the millionth time,  _ again _ . 

 

In her week of unexpected events, another unexpected event happened when the door of Chase’s cell opened and two people who were neither Spiderman nor Deadpool walked in. A redhead and a guy slightly shorter than the redhead with blond hair. 

They came in, closed the door, and stood facing Chase, staring at her steeleily. 

“Who are you?” Asked the redhead. 

Chase slowly stood up. Noticed as both of them tensed slightly, hands probably itching towards the guns on their belts. But all Chase did was stand, and brush her hands off on her jeans. 

“Where’s Spiderman?” She asked. 

“Who are you?” The woman asked again. 

Chase said nothing. 

The man folded his hands in front of him. Chase eyed them both up. 

“Why were you fighting with Spiderman and Deadpool?” Was the next question. 

Chase shrugged. 

“Guess I’m a bad guy.” 

“What’d you do?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing.” 

The man  _ hmm _ ’d at her answer to the woman’s questions. 

She paused for a second. 

“Where’s Spiderman?” 

“What did you do?” 

Chase narrowed her eyes. 

“Who are you?” 

“Who are you?” 

Chase almost laughed. 

“Okay, fine. Doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Leah Chase.” 

The woman turned around, and walked out without another word. Chase watched her go, slightly surprised. 

The man stayed. 

The door closed. He looked back at her. She looked at him. 

“Why were you, Spiderman, and Deadpool fighting?” He asked. 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Go ask them.” 

The man shrugged. 

“Okay, have fun in here.” 

He turned, and followed the woman’s exit. 

“ _ Who the fuck are you _ ?!” Chase called after them as the door slammed shut. 

Alone again, she dropped back down to the floor, and hung her head in her hands. 

Impulsive and angry Chase was, yeah, she’d agree and attest to it herself. However--she was never one of those depressed people who did things like  _ crying _ . So, it came as a shock to her when she felt tears pricking the back of her eyes, and some dark, black, cold feeling gripping her right in her ribcage. She breathed in sharply, lifting her head, staring wide eyed at the other side of the room even as water welled up in her eyes and tears started slowly streaming down her face. 

She couldn’t tell if she imagined it, or if her vision really did go a bit fuzzy and dark around the edges, like fire burning away the edges of paper, then disappearing. She breathed in a shaky breath through her mouth.

She felt her right hand tremble. It was like someone reached a hand into her head and twisted their fist up in her brain as she suddenly slammed her head back against the wall  _ hard _ , without having a previous thought to do so. 

She slowly, with her mouth slightly open, a tear or two dropping into it, turned her head to look at the door the man and woman had disappeared through, sight blurry through tears. 

_ What did you do to me?  _

She thought. Purposefully. Personally. But her next thought she didn’t remember initiating at all. Seeming to come walking in from the recesses of her mind all on it’s own, an intruder in the castle. And the thought after that...and the thought after that... _ and the thought after that _ . 

 

To say that it was tense in the room where the Avengers, Peter, Wade, and Loki stood would be an understatement...to understate it. 

Tony and Steve, Clint had to think, looked very much like disapproving parents meeting their fifteen year old daughter’s boyfriend for the first time. They sat at a table next to each other, Tony sitting back with his arms crossed, and Steve leaning forward with one forearm resting on the table. Neither of them said anything. 

Wade and Peter were standing to the side of the table, opposite Clint and Bruce. Both their masks were back on, and they were holding hands. 

Thor stood quite awkwardly next to Loki, who was handcuffed beside him. 

Natasha was not there. 

“I can  _ taste  _ the awkward,” Wade finally said after about three seconds. “...Like hummus,” he continued. 

Loki gestured with his cuffed hands, and pressed his mouth into a line. 

It was, surprisingly, Bruce who spoke up next. 

“Can you build this bomb that we’ve all been talking about?” 

Loki snickered, grin as malicious and creepy and mischievous as ever. 

“I can do a lot of things-” 

“He  _ will _ ,” Thor interrupted. 

Loki quirked his eyebrows up for a second. 

Tony stared up at him, looking like a con-artist’s failed potential target. 

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asked, the same unconvinced expression on his face. 

Thor looked over at Loki. Loki looked back at him. 

“I’m sure.” 

Loki winked, then looked around at everybody. 

“Yeah, It’ll be great fun we’ll have together.” 

No one responded. 

 

Thor let the bag of supplies from Asgard thump down on the table Loki was given permission to use in the otherwise empty conference room. Thor turned to him. Loki stared at him, unimpressed. 

“You know the contents of that bag have the potential to wipe out this entire city.” 

“But it  _ won’t _ ,” Thor said seriously. 

Loki rolled his eyes. 

“You’re  _ no  _ fun.”

Thor stepped forward, properly invading Loki’s space. Loki lifted his head, leaning away slightly but not backing down. They stared at each other. Thor reached forward, and grabbed one of Loki’s arms, using his other and to unlock the cuffs. 

“How do you know I won’t just fuck it up on purpose and betray you?” 

“Because you owe me, don’t you?” Thor responded. 

Loki sneered. 

 

_ Sun streamed in through the windows, casting the room in sharp rays at every angle.  _

_ Loki stood with his back to the room in front of the table set with one chair. He rested his fingertips lightly against the top of it.  _

_ Thor stood several feet behind him, standing next to the bed. The conversation he had just had with their--his-- _ their  _ father still rang in his ears.  _

_ “Why would you do that?” Loki asked, unreadable as his back was still to Thor.  _

_“I thought that if I plead your case...negotiate_ _with father-”_

_ Loki scoffed.  _

_ “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.  _

_ Thor’s brow furrowed.  _

_ “I’m trying to help your cause,” Thor said, “you could show a little gratitude that I’m even trying at all.”  _

_ Loki turned around all at once.  _

_ “Oh yes, I should fall over on my face stumbling over my own profuse thanks. There should be statues erected, great feasts held in your honor!”  _

_ Loki took a step forward.  _ _   
_ _ “I never asked for your help,” he sneered, “I don’t want anything from you, or Odin besides release from this cage.”  _

_ “They could have put you in a lot worse of a cage.”  _

_ Rage flared across Loki’s face. Thor knew he should have just stayed silent.  _

_ “Get out. _

_ Thor’s shoulders deflated slightly, he raised his hands in surrender.  _

_ “Brother-”  _

_ “We’re  _ not  _ brothers,” Loki snapped.  _

_ Thor stood up straighter.  _

_ The moments moved and left them behind, standing opposite each other with a great cavern of space between even though in reality it was only a few feet. Thor had felt this great splitting of the ground between them before, and he was sure he’d feel it many times again and again.  _

 

_ “You are  _ nothing  _ to me, Odinson,” Loki finally spat.  _

_ Thor paused. Loki did not look away from him. Tried to keep his faze blank. Thor was, for perhaps the first time in his life, rendered speechless. Loki felt the satisfaction sate the anger squeezing each one of his muscles, nerve endings, and organs.  _

_ Thor turned, and left the room; a luxury Loki did not, and would never have again. Loki pretended the pang he felt in his gut was envy and anger over that fact.  _

 

_ Thor paused outside Loki’s room, breathing quick. He looked down at the lock, and felt the urge to curl his hand into a fist and bang on the handle until it broke off. _

_ It was a complicated situation. Thor was never good at complicated situations. He was all for simple. So, having the god of manipulation and silver tonguedness for a brother--and lover, as it was--was simply ironic, universally poetic.  _

 

Loki turned to the side, away from Thor, facing the table. He began unpacking the bag. 

“Go away, I need to focus if I’m not to blow us all to Hel.” 

Thor didn’t obey immediately. Instead, he reached a hand up, resting it on the nape of Loki’s neck. He leaned forward, and rested his forehead against the jut of Loki’s shoulder, squeezing the back of his neck lightly. Loki tensed, pausing in his ministrations. 

“Thank you, Loki.” 

Loki remained frozen several seconds after Thor had already walked away. 

 

Thor leaned against the wall with his head tilted back, eyes closed. He listened to Loki working silently, the only noise being the moving of his various objects and tools, the occasional spoken enchantment whispered underneath his brother’s breath. 

Thor didn’t exactly know how long it had been--only that it had been light, and now it was dark--when he suddenly heard a book close sharply. He opened his eyes, sensing that something had occurred. Loki’s eyes raked over his creation, and then he turned and looked at Thor. 

“It’s finished,” he said. 

Thor walked over to the table. The thing was...interesting. Familiar, as Thor had seen it once before. It was a fabric bag, held together and closed by a special kind of rope made from a certain creatures hair. There were inscriptions drawn on to the bag. Thor eyed it warily, knowing what the little, seemingly unimpressive bag could do. 

Loki leaned down over the table again, tearing a small scrap of paper from a page in his journal, and scribbling something down with a pen. He handed it over to Thor after he was done. 

“Whoever does this will have to say that-- _ exactly  _ that--to detonate it. After, they’ll have fifteen minutes to get as far away as possible from it.” 

Thor raised an eyebrow. 

“Ghost is going to do it.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow right back. 

“The Athraki hostage you have? They can’t do it. Athraki can’t handle the device without a host.” 

Thor frowned, looking down at the paper again. He was not looking forward to telling the Avengers this new piece of information. 

 

“Ghost will need a body to inhabit in order to handle the device.” 

“Are you serious?” Peter responded, face impassively unimpressed. 

“And this is dangerous...because as far as I am aware, a human would be unable to survive in an Athraki ship. Or the journey one would have to take to get there,” Loki added. 

Bruce hated the fact that his eyes, as well as everyone else in the room besides Loki’s, all flicked to Wade. 

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Peter said immediately once he realized where everyone was looking. 

“Spidey--” 

Peter held up his hand to stop Wade. 

“No, this is fucking bullshit, why would--why would Ghost even give Wade back after it was over?” 

It is these increments of seconds that really make real life real, isn’t it? These little bits that get glossed over in media and fiction and everything else. The moments when you really  _ don’t know  _ what’s going to happen next, but in the most mundane way possible. The silence when everyone in the room is suddenly just at the base of existence in absolute soul stark: “Yeah, no, got nothing.” 

“We give Ghost back Louisa.” 

All eyes turned to Tony. 

Second, second, second. 

“Athraki  _ are  _ very possessive of hosts they are extremely compatible with, and Ghost was with Louisa for several months. A long time by Athraki standards,” Thor admonished. 

Peter refused to think about what that meant for him and his compatibility with Ghost. 

“But Ghost and Wade aren’t even compatible so far as we know,” he tried again. 

Second, second, second. 

No one wanted to say it--because pretty much everyone gathered that Peter would host a fucking shit show if they did--but...everyone knew it wasn’t really an  _ issue _ , perse, if Wade and Ghost weren’t compatible. 

“I think...Wade’s regenerative powers would be more than enough to make it...not a problem,” Thor said. 

Peter was…. _ so  _ stressed. 

“Peter--” Wade started. 

“ _ Mmmm…. _ ” Peter hummed, as though he had just heard a terrible pun and was suffering because of it. He lowered his hand. “Yeah, I’mma need a minute. 

 

Outside the conference room, Peter felt the barely suppressed panic crash over him like a wave with a vendetta against the shore. He started shaking his head before he even found words to speak. 

“No, no way, this is not happening, there’s  _ no  _ way that-” 

“Baby, stop,” Wade said, hands coming up to cup Peter’s face. 

Peter grabbed Wade’s wrists, eyes meeting through their masks. He opened his mouth to speak-

“Remember the conversation we had about doing things we don’t want to do because we’ll regret them and feel awful if we don’t and we just want this all to be over?” 

Peter closed his mouth. 

Wade leaned forward, closing the distance between them and resting his forehead against Peter’s. 

“ _ Fuck  _ me…” Peter muttered despondently. 

Wade snorted. 

“Well don’t ask so miserably.” 

Peter almost chortled in response. 

Peter opened and closed his mouth several times in the moments that followed, trying and failing to say something. Wade remained silent, thumbs moving across Peter’s cheekbones though Peter could only sort of feel it through the mask. 

“I wanna say something,” Peter finally said. 

Wade shrugged. 

“Fuck,” Peter said. 

Wade choked, then began to laugh. Peter finally joined him. Wade leaned back, and nodded his head. 

“Yep,” he replied. 

The tone grew more serious. Peter could feel it as Wade’s hands moved around to cradle the sides of his neck. Peter’s hands moved to Wade’s biceps. 

“I love you,” Peter said, 

Wade smiled. 

“I love you too, baby boy.” 

It was Peter’s turn to smile. 

“The Gucci to my Slides.” 

“Ah, bitch, you’re the Gucci one,” Wade replied, rocking Peter back and forth once by his hold on Peter’s shoulders. 

Peter wrinkled his nose, “nah.” 

Wade leaned forward and kissed the tip of that nose through both their masks. 

Peter leaned back. The panic inside him partially sated. He let his head back against the wall. Tried to attune himself more finely to the feel of Wade’s arms underneath his hands. 

“Gonna marry you when you get back.” 

Wade froze, then Peter could see his mask move with how Wade smiled. 

“Fucking fuck yeah you are.” 

 

Peter wasn’t  _ opposed  _ to bondage, and, in fact, he had taken part in it a handful of times in his relationship with Wade, but generally he preferred it in much sexier circumstances. 

However, he was getting rather used to being strapped down to the chair in Tony’s lab. 

This time, Loki was there too. The more the merrier, right? 

“Fucking fuck all of you,” Wade muttered under his breath. Peter wasn’t sure how many heard him, but he certainly did, and it made him chortle. 

Natasha took her mark. Peter felt like a car race was about to start as she raised her pistol. Everyone looking on with apt anticipation. The tone of the room divided and thick. 

Let it be clear that there’s no real way to prepare for being shot in the head. There’s just watching as your executioner raises the thing that’s gonna end your life, and thinking about all the people before you who have been killed just like this. Staring down the barrel of a gun and thinking about the people before  _ them _ . Grasping on to some semblance of solidarity in that dear-in-headlights moment. Me, you, and a million other corpses with gunshot wounds. 

Peter closed his eyes this time. 

_ Bang _ . 

 

…

 

“...What the  _ hell  _ do you people want now?” 

 

…

 

The third time  _ really  _ is the charm. Because the third time Peter rose from the dead in the most literal and biblical sense, he started coughing up blood. 

“Oh holy fuck, are you serious?” Was Wade’s immediate response, hands planted on either side of Peter, one on his back and one on his chest, keeping him in an upright seated position. 

“‘M Fine,” Peter said, teeth red, a mixture of saliva and blood dropping from the corner of his mouth. 

“We should do an MRI,” Bruce said concernedly. 

Peter waved his hand dismissively. 

“Later.” 

Wade snorted in disbelief, lifting his hand up Peter’s back and cradling the back of his head. Peter looked over at him, his eyes ringed with dark circles, skin pale.  _ Ghostly _ . The look in his eyes made Wade’s face crumple.

Then Peter looked past him, towards Thor, who stood at the edge of the room. 

Peter raised an eyebrow, 

“What are we waiting for?” He asked. He turned his head again before getting Thor’s response or reaction, and looked at Wade. Every inch of Peter’s body felt like it had been hit by an individual truck. 

“Your turn, right?” He asked sardonically. 

Wade grimaced. 

 

Wade was not excited. 

If not for Peter, he--well, if not for Peter, a  _ lot  _ of things. But,  _ Peter _ , so he was. 

He was strapped to a chair. Peter was passed out in his own chair in the corner of the room, hands resting limply in his lap, body slumped so far down Wade couldn’t tell where his neck started and shoulders ended. He looked at him for a long time, repeating to himself over and over that Peter was alive. He had woken up. He’s just sleeping. 

Sleeping looked a lot like dead. 

“Are you ready, Wade?” Steve asked. 

Wade turned his head back to face the music. Notes consisting of Captain America, Iron Man, Bruce Banner, Thor, Loki (who, at any other time, Wade would have been  _ ecstatic  _ to meet), Hawkeye, and Black Widow was back. Standing off to the side, glowering. Mostly at Loki. Iron Man was glowering at Loki too. Steve was shooting him distrusting glances. And Bruce was standing a bit behind Loki, which Loki seemed slightly anxious about. 

It was 3:46am. 

“Fuck me up, my dudes.” 

Thor reached forward, and opened the little box for what felt like the four thousandth time that day. 

 

_ Hello again.  _

Wade heard in his mind, as though it were a thought he had all on his own. Then it all went blank like static on the TV, and the slight pressure in the back of your throat you get when you’re about to throw up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! Loki has entered the chat! This chapter is alternatively titled Angst and Twilightist Romance with Loki and Thor. This one was also a little sad, I feel like. But also extremely happy. Get you a chapter who can do both. And a significant other who's the Gucci to your Slides. 
> 
> More soon! I hope you liked this chapter. Let me know with a comment! Who's your favorite character? Is there a character who you think I could be writing better? Is something missing? 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Love you all!


	5. A Series of Tender and Mild Events

Wade smiled when Peter padded into the kitchen, lured awake by the sizzle and smell of bacon. Wade continued cooking as Peter came up behind him, slipping his arms around his torso and pressing a kiss to his back between his shoulder blades. 

“G’morning,” Peter mumbled sleepily. Wade smiled again, piling more bacon onto a plastic plate by the stove. 

“Hey,” Wade greeted. Peter’s hands traveled up his chest. 

“Sleep?” Peter asked. Still in the “early” morning stage of unwillingness to put together whole sentences. 

“Fantastic,” Wade decreed, and finally turned around after laying some more bacon to sizzle in the pan. He slipped his arms around Peter, and the brunet leaned heavily against his chest. Wade kissed the top of his head. 

“Bacon?” Wade asked. 

“Bacon,” Peter iterated, then moved to push himself up on the counter next to the stove, feet swinging slightly as they hung down. Wade lifted one and kissed the top of his ankle. Peter quickly recoiled. 

**...**

“Di _ gust _ ing!” He exclaimed, cringing hard. Wade laughed at him. Peter crossed his legs criss-cross underneath him and pointed an accusatory finger at Wade. 

“Bad,” he said. 

_... _

Wade nipped at the finger pointed at him, then raised a strip of bacon to Peter’s mouth. Peter let him, and took the bacon. He wrinkled his nose. 

“The fact that this is cooked crispy the way  _ I  _ like it disgusts me. I hate you.” 

Wade snickered, pulling the last of the bacon off the pan and onto the mountain that was piled on the plate. Peter reached out and wrapped his hand around the nape of Wade’s neck, pulling him closer and planting a short kiss on his mouth. Wade hummed, and set his hand not holding the plate of bacon on the meat of Peter’s thigh, skin only separated by the thin fabric of boxer shorts. 

“Happy Birthday…” Wade murmured against Peter’s cheek. 

Peter grinned. 

“Oh yeah,” he said, as though suddenly remembering.

Wade snorted, and kissed him again. 

“And they all said  _ I  _ was the one who was gonna forget important dates in this relationship.” 

**...**

Peter chuckled, and opened his mouth to speak. 

Someone knocked on the door. They were a bit frantic. Beats coming in rapid succession.

Peter and Wade’s heads both snapped up.

Wade squeezed Peter’s leg, then moved away out of the kitchen and towards the door. If he had hair on the back of his neck, it’d be standing up. He pressed his palms flat against the door and looked through the peephole. 

_... _

Standing outside in the hall Wade stood wearing the full Deadpool suit, no expression discernible through the mask. Wade--inside the apartment Wade, and Wade of our perspective, stared for a few seconds longer at the unmoving him on the other side of the door, staring right at the peephole as though staring at Wade on the other side. Then, Wade leaned back, and locked the door. 

He went back into the kitchen with a smile on his face. Peter raised an eyebrow. 

“Wrong door,” he said. 

Peter shrugged. Which also seemed a little off. If seeing yourself knocking on your own door through the peephole can be considered “a little off”. In Wade’s book, it was. 

Peter slipped off the counter, and started eating another piece of bacon. Wade grabbed another strip from the plate, then went to the fridge, opening it to reveal a hot mess of an iced cake, a badly drawn Spiderman mask drawn on the top in icing and sprinkles. Wade pulled it out and turned around. Peter looked down at it, half amused expression on his face. 

“When the fuck did you make that?” He asked. 

Wade took a breath to answer, then stopped. Slowly, his face fell, and he looked past Peter and down at the floor in confusion. 

After a few seconds just standing in silence, Peter stepped closer to him. 

“Hey, you okay? What’s happening?” Peter asked, raising a hand to the side of Wade’s face. Wade’s eyes snapped back up to him. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, then brightened immediately, “I made it this morning.” 

Peter looked at him incredulously. 

“You made a whole cake this  _ morning _ ?” 

Wade moved past Peter to set the cake on the counter. 

“Never ask a magician for their secrets, young Petey-wan.” 

Peter snorted. 

“Okay.” 

Wade dug around for some birthday candles, but could only find a matchbook.

**…**

“Guess your gonna have to blow on some matches,” Wade said. 

Peter came up beside him, putting his hand on Wade’s lower back. 

“Unacceptable,” Peter joked, looking at the matchbook in Wade’s hand. 

Wade opened the matchbook, slipping one out. He struck it once against the red stuff on the side of the matchbook that makes it light, and it didn’t light. Peter raised his eyebrows, and looked up at Wade, amused. Wade stuck his tongue out at him. Peter rested his head against Wade’s bicep, arm snaking around his waist. 

Wade tried again. The match lit. So did the rest of their apartment. In a flash of fire and heat. And then all that was left was smoke. 

 

Ghost twitched as their host died  _ once again _ . It was annoying, how he kept dying  _ over and over and over _ . Like being itchy all over your whole body. Not fire ant itchy, more like...Ghost didn’t fucking know, they’d never been able to be in a host this incompatible for so long. 

Either way it was only going to get rougher when they left the surface of the planet. Something they were going to do in only a few minutes. 

Hopefully, They wouldn’t be inside Wade Wilson for very long. They thought as they finished painting the symbol on the wall that was the “password” for teleporting onto the Athraki ship. Ghost looked down at the vessel’s horribly scarred, and now slit open arm, and watched as the wound closed up by itself with interest. 

“Huh…” they mused. 

They dropped their arm, then touched the symbol drawn in Wade’s blood. Immediately, all the air rushed past them and they were no longer standing on Earth. 

 

First of all, Steve wanted to talk about how (if all went according to plan) they were going to give Ghost the dead body of a teenage girl to make sure they gave Deadpool back after they were done blowing up the Athraki ship. He wanted to talk about how  _ that  _ was  _ apart of the plan _ . Plan  _ A _ , no less. 

“Tony, can we talk?” Steve asked as he quickened his pace to catch up with the man walking quickly down the hall. Tony glanced back, then slowed slightly. As did Steve until they walked side by side. “Are we actually going to go through with just... _ giving  _ Ghost the corpse of Louisa Buldain?” 

Tony scratched the back of his neck. 

“Well, ya know, Steve. I really thought to myself ‘yes. I want to let a dangerous alien with significant murdering capabilities have free rein to do whatever the hell they want inside a host we give them’,” Tony said sarcastically, glaring darkly at Steve. 

Steve set his jaw. 

“What’s the  _ play  _ here then, Tony?” 

Tony raised an eyebrow, as though shocked at Steve’s audacity to ask such a question. 

“The  _ play _ , here, is to reduce the number of threats by  _ as much as possible _ . We deal with the horde, then the individual.” 

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Since when do we play every fucking thing off the cuff like this? Since when are we  _ this  _ reckless, and, and--stupid?!” Steve questioned, anger rising with his voice. 

Tony gestured widely with his hands. 

“What team have  _ you  _ been  _ Cap’n’ing _ , Steve?” 

Steve opened his mouth to say something back. 

An alarm started going off. 

They both stopped. 

“JARVIS?” Tony inquired sharply. 

“The prisoner that was acquired at the same time as Mr. Parker and Mr. Wilson has escaped. One Stark employee is dead.” 

“Lock down the building,” Tony ordered immediately. 

“Yes sir.” 

Tony looked at Steve. 

“Suit up.” 

 

Peter’s eyes opened blearily when he heard the alarm. He winced slightly as he sat up, pulling his mask off the table. 

“JARVIS, what the fuck’s going on?” He asked, mostly breath. 

“The woman who was brought in as the same time as you and Deadpool seems to have escaped, sir.” 

Peter groaned, pulling his hand over his masked face. 

“Fucking  _ COCKROACH! _ ” Peter yelled in the empty room, he lurched up to run towards the door. He was immediately overcome by a wave of dizziness so strong, he immediately threw himself back down into his seat. He hung his head, groaning, palming his forehead through his mask. 

Okay...so...dying several times in one day isn’t the  _ best  _ for one’s constitution. 

Peter muttered under his breath, and tried again. He stayed upright this time, and started across the room. 

 

When Thor heard the alarm, he didn’t think. He acted. 

He grabbed Loki around the throat, throwing him against the wall and pinning him. 

“Stay here,” He ordered dangerously before backing off, leaving the room without another word and locking the door behind him. 

Loki stayed against the wall for a second, then smiled as he stepped away from it. 

Opportunity had sung its siren song. 

 

Bruce had a migraine. They weren’t uncommon for him, but this one felt like it was going to be... _ fickle _ . 

Bruce took of his glasses, massaging his temples with his fingertips. 

In his head, he regarded his lab as a calm place. Orderly. An escape. 

All the shit that had been going down inside it had really messed with his zen. 

Bruce was a man of science. He didn’t like all this magical alien bastards who kept coming around being able to fuck with things nobody should be able to fuck with. In a way, mutants pissed him off that way too. But this  _ Ghost _ , these Athraki...Bruce could semi imagine what it would be like to get inside someone’s head. Pick and prod all the worst things to the front. He imagined what it would be like if they did it to him. 

He imagined it would feel like your head’s too full. Like there’s cotton packed up in there, as overused and cliche as the expression seemed. He imagined a drain in his mind’s eye. A kind of nasty, communal shower drain. All the good swirling down it. All the little things that keep us alive...it would feel like the feeling of being home alone and being paranoid that someone’s in the house...behind the shower curtain...under the bed...just around that corner you can’t see past...

Bruce dragged his hand over his face, then he ran his tongue over his teeth. He was used to having a...another  _ presence _ around. The big guy was always there. Just under the skin. Giving him a nice, Vulcan blush. As much as Bruce hated it, he’d grown used to it…

He felt crowded. 

 

Peter had almost collided with the woman. Chase. He was turning the corner, still trying to quell his migraine, and she wasn’t five feet in front of him. They both froze. Chase took a swing. 

Peter dodged the swipe from the woman. There was something different about her. Something new that wasn’t there when they fought before. 

Peter ducked another wide arc of her fist, then decked her. She hit the floor like belly flopping into a pool. For a tic, they were both still. Then, she stood up unceremoniously, without sound, pushing herself to her feet. Blood ran down her chin. She’d bit through her tongue and hadn’t even flinched. Peter looked her in the eyes, his own wide and confused. Something inside him thumped, like a hammer hitting a nail into a post. 

_ Ghost _ . 

How the  _ fuc- _

She lunged for him again. Okay. No time for logic. 

_ It’s clobberin’ time.  _

He shot webs at her, and she flew back. Her arm from the elbow down was webbed to the wall, leaving her pinned. She glared at her arm, stained-red teeth grit, and started to struggle. 

Peter breathed hard, moving to step forward, then keeling over for a hot second. His vision went dark around the edges momentarily. 

_ Ohhhhh, Death // You come for me  _

He shook himself out of it, and stood up again, raising his arm to web Chase up more. 

Before he could, she did something unexpected, which he should have expected. She ripped her webbed arm, drywall and all, away. Leaving being a gaping hole and a new window into the room on the other side. All the air left Peter’s lungs in a hurry. She swung her arm/chunk of wall at him like a club. He barely managed to jump in time, landing on the ceiling. 

Chase growled animalistically, backing up. She slung her arm in a wide arc again, this time slamming it hard against the wall. Most of the drywall cracked and fell away, and she was able to wiggle her arm out of the webbing. Her struggle gave Peter time to jump on her back. 

He wrapped an arm around her throat, trying to choke her until she passed out. 

So, Chase did what she did with her drywall arm. She stepped forward, then slammed herself (So, Peter, who was clinging to her back like a baby chimp) back against the wall as hard as she could. Repeatedly. 

Peter felt his eyes roll back, but he didn’t let go. 

 

Loki didn’t wince as he slashed a line across his forearm with a broken piece of glass. He made quick work of the Athraki symbol on the wall in the closet he was in. He had a very limited window of time. It only took a moment to draw the symbol, and then all he had to do was press his palm to the center. Immediately, he was whisked away as though he were never there. The symbol disappearing from the wall with him. 

 

Wade stared intensely at the frying bacon. Watched it sizzle and pop. His senses were often not to be trusted, but usually he was pretty good about food. So why did the bacon smell like propane? 

He felt someone’s arms come up around him. He flinched so hard, he almost flung the whole pan. 

“Whoa, hey, you okay?” 

Wade turned around. Peter stood with his arms raised cautiously, in nothing but boxer shorts. 

Wade gaped for a second, then he pointed the tongs at Peter accusatory. 

**...**

“Never sneak up on an unstable person, Wade,” he told him. 

Peter smiled. 

“My mistake.” 

Wade turned back to the stove. 

_... _

“Bacon?” 

“Bacon,” Peter agreed, and hopped up on the counter next to the stove. 

Peter moaned, “the fact that this is cooked chewy the way  _ I  _ like it  _ disgusts  _ me.” 

Wade grinned, moving the last of the bacon off the pan and onto the plate. He turned, and leaned in to kiss Peter. Peter hummed, setting his hand on the nape of Wade’s neck. 

“Happy Anniversary,” Wade murmured sweetly against Peter’s mouth. Peter pulled back slightly and grinned. 

“And they said you’d forget all the important dates this relationship,” Peter joked. 

Wade smiled back, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Peter’s shoulder. 

Someone knocked on the door. A handful of firm, precise beats. 

Peter and Wade’s heads both snapped up. 

Wade squeezed Peter’s waist, then moved away out of the kitchen towards the door, staring at it darkly. If he had hair along his arms, it’d be standing up. When he reached the door, he pressed his palms flat against it and leaned forward to look through the peephole. 

Standing outside in the hall Spiderman stood, hands limp at his sides, no expression discernible through the mask. Wade’s heart dropped like a fault elevator in a horror movie. He stared for a few seconds at the unmoving Spiderman, uncertain who was under the mask because Peter was back in the kitchen. He’d just left him there, sitting on the counter, being adorable. 

**...**

But the Spiderman outside the apartment right then  _ seemed  _ like Peter, which was the scariest part. When your familiar with someone; someone’s body, someone’s height, the way someone holds themself, someone’s everything, you can usually pick them out even if they are wearing a mask. Wade could have sworn up, down, backward, and to whatever deity of your choosing that the person on the other side of the the door was Peter Parker.  

_!!! _

Spiderman wasn’t moving. Wade leaned back, and glanced back towards the kitchen, heart thumping in his throat. He turned back, and opened the door. 

Spiderman continued to stay still. Frozen. Unflinching. 

“...Petey?” Wade asked after a second. 

“ _ Wade _ ?” 

Wade heard Peter respond questioningly from the kitchen. He heard movement from the kitchen as well. Peter was coming towards him. Wade didn’t take his eyes off the Spiderman in front of him. Blood rushed in his ears like the moments before a Big Boss Fight. 

**!!!**

Finally, Spiderman in front of him slowly raised his arms up, and took off his mask. Wade held his breath. Just as the person, who Wade was 97% certain was Peter Fucking Parker, was lifting the mask over his mouth, Wade felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He jumped, and turned around quickly. Peter jumped back as well. 

“Hey, woah...what’s going on?!” He inquired, semi-urgently. 

Wade breathed out largely through his mouth. He turned around. Spiderman-- _ whoever  _ it was, was gone. 

“Nothing…” Wade said as he slowly closed the door, and, after a second’s thought, locked it. He turned back to Peter. The  _ real  _ Peter. He smiled, “it’s nothing,” he repeated. 

_!!! _

Peter stared at him warily, then turned around and walked back into the kitchen. Wade refrained from glancing into the peephole again, and followed. When he went into the kitchen after Peter, Peter was back sitting on the counter. 

Wade went to the fridge, and opened it. Inside was...nothing. The fridge was absolutely empty. Not even a half empty squeeze bottle of mustard from before Wade had even moved it. Bare. But not clean. Filthy, actually. A thick, greazy layer of grime coating the walls and shelves. 

“Wade, did you make this?” 

Wade let the fridge close, and turned around. Peter, now standing,was looking at a poorly iced cake set on the counter. Wade walked closer, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders. He looked at the cake he had absolutely no recollection of making. 

Wade could deal with a lot. He could make excuses for a lot of things, passing them off as crazy hallucinations his mind makes up, or a bad acid trip in a dirty alley way. This was feeling like a bad acid trip in a dirty alley way. But if that were the case, then there was a very apparent lack of Godzilla-sized  _ Care Bears  _ trying to vore him. 

**!!!!**

Wade hadn’t realized, but he had stepped closer to the cake. There were words written on it, sloppily, barely legible. So probably his handwriting. He tried to decipher the frosting scrawl:  _ behind youuuuuuuuuuuu _ . 

The  _ u _ ’s continued until the author of the scrawl ran out of space on the cake. 

_!!!!! _

As soon as Wade read the words, the cake exploded as vicious looking spiders burst out of it, pouring out of the cake like it was an egg freshly hatched. Wade was more concerned with the cake’s warning. He spun around, just in time to see the look on Peter’s face--something he had  _ never  _ seen before--before Peter lurched, and snapped his neck. 

**_!!!!!!!(!*)*!@ &^!^@&$()!)@(*(!^&@$^&!()@()$@_#)*&!&%!*($)!@($*!^@!^#(!)@$)&&^_ **

He gasped, staring down at Wade’s body crumpled on the tile at his feet, spiders falling from the counter, landing on him. He looked up, catching his reflection in the microwave door. The face of Wade Wilson staring back at him darkly.

 

Dust shimmered in the cold, blue light. 

Ghost pulled out a small box from a pouch on the Deadpool suit. The box is heavy in their palm. Abnormally heavy for its size. It is the richest obsidian, inscribed with symbols that seemed to move. Sway and squirm slightly. The box breathed, as though it were alive. 

Ghost set the device down on the floor, between the rows and rows of cubby holes lining the narrow walls. The cubby holes were filled with something shiny and bare visible, like Earth’s jellyfish.

Ghost didn’t look around the ship, or glance towards the cubby holes where their thousands of fellow race were sleeping. Waiting for them to return with news of a habitable planet. 

Ghost took the piece of paper they had been given out of a pocket. They said the words clearly. Armed the bomb. The silent countdown began. No time for introspection now. 

Ghost stood up, and turned. 

The trickster god Loki stood in their way. 

Ghost narrowed their eyes. Loki smirked. 

 

When Chase went limp, Peter almost fell. He managed to get his feet under himself, ending up in a sort of crouch, holding Chase’s body up, arm still strung across her throat. He felt his adrenaline pulsing in his chest. Slowly, he started to release pressure on the woman’s neck. 

Immediately, he was thrown over her shoulder, put on his aching back hard. He groaned, back arching, hands curling into fists. His head snaps back, hits the floor. 

Then Chase was on him. He yelled, struggled against her. She snapped at him, trying to bite his face. He managed to get his feet underneath her, planted in her gut. He displaced her enough to spring out of her grasp, pushing himself to his feet. He kicked her in the head like a football player about to win glory. 

She fell back. Didn’t stay down. There’s was kind of blood everywhere now. 

She was just getting up. Peter was getting ready for the impact of the continuing fight, when--

She collapsed. Like a sack of potatoes thrown off a ledge. A heap on the ground. 

Peter stopped.

He cocked his head to the side, wondering if it was a trick. 

He webbed her hands to the ground. Then her feet. Then all the way up her legs. He slowly approached. Kicked her in the shin. Kicked her again. 

Blood dribbled out of her mouth. 

He cautiously squatted down beside her, wary. 

_ Beat, beat-- _

Her head snapped up, eyes ferocious, teeth baring. 

Peter’s hand shot out, wrapping around her throat and throwing her back to the floor. He lifted her head slightly by the throat again, slamming it back against the tile twice more before he let go, panting as he backed off, falling against the wall and sitting hard on the floor. He stared at Chase’s limp body, eyes wide, searching for the slightest twitch. 

When her eyes had snapped open...Peter didn’t think Chase was being influenced by Ghost anymore. 

Clint came running around the corner. Peter snapped his head up and over at him, breathlessly, he asked: 

“Where the fuck were you? Where’s everyone else?” 

Clint stopped, took in the scene in front of him. Then, he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Don’t tell me,” Peter said before he could. Clint stopped. “ _ There’s a problem _ ?” Peter repeated the mantra of the day. 

Clint nodded. 

Peter closed his eyes, and let his head thump back painfully against the wall. 

“A green one,” Clint said. 

Peter’s eyes snapped open. 

 

_ It struck fast. Engulfed the end into its mouth and jumped several inches at a time for the first few moments, battle the struggling earthworm. Eventually, the lizard remained still, and set about devouring its meal that was longer than its body. Another inch of the earthworm the lizard swallowed. The outline of half the worm’s body, swallowed by the lizard, pushing and pulsing and squirming could be seen from outside. Pressing up against it’s skin, almost like a heartbeat or a breath.  _

_ For several minutes, the lizard, and the worm struggled. The worm’s fate was already certain, but still it wriggled and fought. The lizard struggled through the long battle, determined to swallow the whole of the prey longer than its whole body, tail included, was. It seemed as though the worm would burst through the lizard’s body from the way it stretched the body it was being sucked into. But the boneless worm wasn’t strong enough, and so, it was swallowed. The lizard kept drawing the worm into its mouth with short, harsh jerks of its head and neck.  _

_ Wonder if lizards had teeth. Apparently not. Or maybe lizards were just sadists. Maybe the lizard enjoyed the worm moving inside him, no matter how painful it looked from the outside.  _

_ In the end, the lizard won its meaningless battle. The worm was swallowed. It--or  _ they  _ being both the Lizard and the Worm inside it--disappeared into the bushes nearby.  _

_ The two boys sat in the grass, contrasting hair falling to their shoulders, curling around their ears. The light haired one laid his head on the dark haired one’s shoulder, talking animatedly about his newest bit of information he had managed to find out about the Valkyrie.  _

_ “I’m going to be a Valkyrie one day.”  _

_ “You can’t. The Valkyrie are all women,” the other boy replied matter-of-factly.  _

_ “Then you can make me a woman with one of your magic tricks and  _ then  _ I will be a Valkyrie.”  _

_ The dark haired boy’s cheeks flushed with pink.  _

_ “They aren’t  _ magic tricks. _ They’re spells.  _ Illusionments _.”  _

_ The blond shrugged, nudging the other boy.  _

_ “ _ Illussonments _ , then,” he corrected incorrectly.  _

_ The other boy looked shortly towards the sky, as though hoping, ironically, for divine intervention. The blond turned his head and kissed the dark haired boy’s bare shoulder sweetly. The dark haired boy shoved the blond hard, even as small, secret smile tipped the corners of his mouth up.  _

_ Onto his back the larger boy went sprawling, laughing in a surprised, high pitch. _

 

Loki turned away from the momentarily dead body of the immortal mutant  _ Deadpool _ . He scratched his jaw, feeling it as Ghost adjusted to their sudden hijacking. Loki stood up straighter, setting his shoulders. He breathed in, and set a smirk onto his face. 

“Welcome, my friend. I believe we are going to have a very beneficial relationship.” 

He felt it like a very much ferocious and not-declawed cat being locked into a metal box and being  _ really _ not happy about it. Only his head was the box, and Ghost was the cat; screaming and clawing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One? Done. 
> 
> Yeah, I know this one was suuuuuuper short, but you know what? The next chapter is completely (mostly) done! And will be up...dare I say soon? (I'm gonna say soon)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! And, as always, leave a kudos and a comment for me, because I live off of them, and if I don't get validation, I'll cry myself to sleep tonight. 
> 
> Tumblr: insidious-now  
> come talk to me if you want! I need friends.


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